


dress up in your finer things (and a smile can’t hide anything)

by YouDontRememberTheSomme



Category: 1917 - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Detective Rossi, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More warnings/tags to be added, Murder, Sort Of, This au’s based off of Anson’s character in The Alienist, several murders actually!, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontRememberTheSomme/pseuds/YouDontRememberTheSomme
Summary: When a string of murders occur, Detective James Rossi is sent out to solve it.
Relationships: James Rossi/Charles Cooke, Private Cooke/Private Rossi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

Rossi slowly descended the steps, almost flinching at the crowd. Men and boys- boys in various states of undress and men stumbling drunk- milled about, finding conversational partners or ducking into side rooms. 

James found it vulgar, especially when he noticed the way the other men there eyed him. 

No, the whole place was distasteful, all the more reason to ask his questions and then get out as fast as he could. 

“Good evening, sir,” a low voice drawled behind him.

When James turned his head, a young man- barely a man, really- was settled on the bar counter, letting his shawl slide off one shoulder.

Rossi’s eyes flickered over the boy, taking him in head to toe. Blond, green eyes- bright ones, the sort Rossi would’ve thought were stunning on anyone else- feather boa, sheer black shawl, a skirt, stockings. Not much left to the imagination, and that fact made him keep his eyes on the young man’s face. “I’m not here for that.”

“Am I not your type?” he softly teased, stepping closer to him. “I can make up for that.”

“I’m here on official business, if you’ll excuse me-“

“Does official business have a name? I don’t think he’d mind letting me borrow your attention for a while.”

“I’m actually leaving,” Rossi cut him off, absolutely not taking note of the way the boy tugged his skirt up a bit. Unsubtle, he was incredibly unsubtle. Fucking adorable, really.

That was precisely the thought Rossi wasn’t trying to have, nor was he trying to think about how the boy’s thighs would look with his marks on them. 

“What’s your name?” the boy pressed, sliding down from the bar counter and stepping into Rossi’s personal space. “There’s an empty room upstairs...”

Rossi set his jaw, trying to keep his eyes on the little blond’s face. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be quick,” he protested. “I’m good at it.”

Rossi scanned the other men and nodded. “Fine. Show me to your room.”

The boy looked _delighted_ , but James knew better than to think it was out of a desire for his company. 

The boy dragged him along, his stocking-clad feet making soft sounds on the steps and the much quieter hall upstairs. 

Rossi cringed a bit when he started undressing, reaching out to take the boy’s wrist. “No, I’m not here for that.”

The blond looked at him with bewildered green eyes, looking perplexed. “What are you here for then?”

“I need answers. Were you close with the boy here that was killed? Will? Did he have anyone who had reason to hurt him?”

The boy pursed his lips, crossing his arms and not saying a word. 

“I’ll pay you for your time,” Rossi coaxed. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie.”

“Charlie. I’m trying to catch the person who did this. He’s not going to stop at one victim.”

“Will was liked by a lot of people,” he said finally. “He has a lot of clients, a lot of regulars.” He flashed Rossi a smile. “Lot of rich ones.”

James softly sighed. “Do you know any names?”

“There was a Blake something, and Leslie. Leslie likes his sweet ones, comes in for Angel and Arthur too. Was weird to hear that someone hurt Will. Men came to him because they want someone soft to play with.”

The words were out of Rossi’s mouth before he could stop them- “Why do they come to you?”

Cooke flashed a little smile. “Because I can handle a rough fuck, sir.”

~*~

It was a few weeks before Rossi found himself back at the brothel’s front door. It was just business, again, but it wasn’t long before Charlie found his way to Rossi’s side, tugging at his sleeve. 

“You’re back. Miss my company?”

“Unless you have anything else I should know about Will or know the identity of the body they found last night, no.”

“You’re no bloody fun.”

“Can’t say I make a habit of visiting this type of place,” Rossi said with a dry smile. 

“Could always make a habit of visiting _me_ ,” he murmured, running a hand up Rossi’s arm.

James didn’t pull away, admittedly a bit too busy committing the way the boy’s dress clung to his body to memory.

“I have work to do, unfortunately,” Rossi murmured, finding his voice. 

Charlie gave him a crooked grin. “You’re starting to interest me, sir.”

Rossi studied him for a long moment, his hand finding Charlie’s hip. “Am I, now?”

The blond nodded, green eyes flashing with amusement. “You’re awfully focused on your work, aren’t you?”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Rossi said absently. 

“I’m good at it. Can’t say the same for you, considering whoever killed Will is still out and about,” he softly teased. 

“Smart mouth,” Rossi noted. “You ever learn any manners?

“Why don’t you teach me?”

“I have things to do tonight, doll, otherwise I’d be awfully tempted.”

“You could add me to your to-do list.”

“Do men like you for your awful lines?” Rossi softly teased, letting his hand drift down Charlie’s side. “What did you tell me your name was?”

“Am I that forgettable, sir?”

“Could say I had other things on my mind that night.”

“Hopefully I was one of them.”

Rossi’s smile turned a bit sarcastic. “Could say that.”

“Charlie,” he said absently. “Charlie Cooke, sir.”

“Charlie,” Rossi repeated. 

“D’you plan on taking me upstairs or just bloody staring at me all night?” Cooke asked, sounding a bit impatient. “I’d rather you keep me company again.”

“High compliment,” Rossi murmured. 

“Well?” Charlie pressed. “I’m discreet. Won’t tell anybody a certain detective came to spend a few hours with me. You stare at me the same way the rest of these men do, sir, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Rossi hesitated, studying him for a long moment. As much as he’d like to say no, to focus on his work... He was tempted. _Incredibly_ tempted, especially given the way Cooke was staring at him. His gaze was hungry, eager, and Rossi was sure that he looked the same way. “‘m sure Malky can handle this thing for a night,” Rossi finally murmured. “Where’s your room?”

Cooke’s expression brightened a bit, resting his hand on Rossi’s. “Follow me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rossi hadn’t planned to get close to Cooke, especially not as close as they ended up. Charlie called him Jamie, not Detective Rossi or- anything. Sir on occasion but that was when they were in the bedroom or leading up to it. They were familiar now, no more need for their false fronts or public personas. It was… surprisingly pleasant.

Rossi hadn’t planned to get close to Cooke, especially not as close as they ended up. Charlie called him Jamie, not _Detective Rossi_ or- anything. _Sir_ on occasion but that was when they were in the bedroom or leading up to it. They were familiar now, no more need for their false fronts or public personas. It was… surprisingly pleasant. 

Charlie had taken to showing up at Rossi’s home. James knew he had other clients- he always elected not to ask, not wanting to think about the fact that the idea of other men made him irritated- but in the late evenings, when Rossi was finally home from his work with the other police officers, Charlie was all his. 

Cooke staying overnight was meant to be a one-time thing, on a whim when Rossi would be home incredibly late and didn’t want to make the walk home well after midnight. 

He’d gotten home and Cooke was waiting patiently for him, a wide smile on his face and nothing but his damned feather boa and his stockings on. 

Rossi revisited that memory frequently.

But now, every night, he’d get home and Cooke would be there, smart mouth running as soon as Rossi crossed the threshold. 

It was a welcome relief to him- although no more murders had occurred, he’d always had a little twinge of worry that someday, he’d get home and Cooke wouldn’t be there waiting for him. 

Rossi wondered when he’d started caring.

That wasn’t a thought James liked to dwell on- it was easier like this, to come home and let Cooke greet him. He’d taken to hiding the key where he knew Cooke would find it. The little bastard was clever, more than he gave himself credit for. 

That particular evening, as Rossi hung his coat by the door and loosened his tie, he was greeted with the same voice that always greeted him. 

“Jamie?” a singsong little voice called from up the stairs. 

“Just a second, doll,” Rossi called back, setting his things down before slowly walking up the stairs. 

He paused a moment at the top, already knowing Cooke was bound to get whiny and annoyed at how long he was taking. 

“ _Jamie_ ,” almost on cue came the soft little whine. 

Rossi held back a laugh, walking with long strides toward his room.

There he was in Rossi’s bed, sprawled on his stomach wearing a green shawl and not much else, _pouting_.

“You have fun making me sit here, don’t you?” Charlie playfully accused. “It’s impolite to leave your guests waiting.”

“You implying my guests are all hookups?”

“I’m your only guest, so yes. God knows I’m the only one who likes your company,” he teased. 

Rossi moved to stand at the foot of his bed, reaching out to cup Cooke’s face in his hand. “Damn interesting pair we make.”

“A whore and a detective. Sounds like a bad joke,” he snickered. “Which one of us is the punchline?”

“Sit up and let me kiss you already.”

Cooke was happy to obey, scrambling up to kneel on the bed and letting Rossi rest his hands on his waist. “Busy day? You look more tense than usual,” he softly teased. 

“You’ve got no idea, princess,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss him rough and filthy.

Cooke purred into it, tugging Rossi closer.

They broke off the kiss after a moment, mostly for the sake of letting Rossi climb into bed and on top of Cooke, who was much more preoccupied with unbuttoning James’s shirt. “What are we doing tonight, _sir_?” he softly purred. 

Rossi didn’t respond, more in favor of finishing undressing. The sound of his belt being undone made Cooke shiver, his eyes on Rossi’s carefully neutral face. 

He was always so damned calm, never letting on what he was going to do until he was doing it. It drove Cooke mad sometimes, watching the man between his legs watching him right back, watching him keen and whine and beg with those deep fucking eyes. Always so teasing, so rarely touching him where he wanted to be touched until Cooke pleaded for it. 

Sometimes he wondered if Rossi knew he loved him.

He quickly dismissed that thought, tugging at Rossi’s waistband. “You always so slow?”

“You always so needy?” James retorted, tugging him into a kiss.

“Maybe,” Cooke pouted. 

“Lay down, I’ve got it,” he insisted. “Lemme take care of you, yeah?”

Those words were like an off switch for Cooke’s snark- just like that, he was docile and quiet, squirming out of Rossi’s grasp to lay back against the pillows. 

Rossi had always been sweet to him, especially in situations like these.

Cooke watched him intently, whining softly at the gentle fingertips that ran slowly, so slowly, up his leg and stopped on his hip.

“Jamie?”

“I’ll get to it when I think you’re ready, love.”

“I _am_ ready, though,” he pleaded. “Been thinking about you all afternoon… thought about getting off while I waited…”

“Why don’t you get yourself ready for me, then?” Rossi murmured, kneeling between Cooke’s legs. “Be a good boy for me, bambi.”

Cooke hissed out a little moan at the words, at the way Rossi was staring at him. “Fine.”

James smirked at him, despite the annoyed look Charles tossed at him as he reached for the tin Rossi had taken to keeping on the nightstand. Convenience, the detective had once remarked with a little smirk. 

Cooke, for all his bravado, almost blushed when he picked up the tin. It was something so minor, it was almost foolish to think about, but he felt a little surge of possessive pride at the fact that he knew he was the only one Rossi used it with. 

Charlie had once- jokingly but with genuine curiosity and a bit of jealousy- asked if he saw anyone else. 

The answer had been no, and Cooke felt a surge of smug satisfaction as he dipped his fingers into the vaseline. 

A sudden bit of shyness took hold of him, the way it always did with James. It was different with him, sex had taken to feeling like he was laying some secret part of himself bare for Rossi to see. 

He slid his fingers into himself slowly, letting out a little whine. Some delirious part of him wondered if Rossi enjoyed seeing him like this, making him giggle. 

“What’s funny, doll?” James murmured, his hand resting on Cooke’s thigh. 

“You like what you’re looking at,” Cooke softly snickered. “Don’t even need to ask, I already know it’s true.”

Rossi grinned at him. “Course I do, love.”

Cooke let a weak little whimper slip from his mouth, his eyelids fluttering shut as he slowly fingered himself. It wasn’t the first time Rossi had asked him to prep himself- maybe it was the third? He didn’t really keep track- but every time felt so vulnerable. Rossi’s eyes always stared right through him, making him feel so exposed. 

It didn’t take long, it never did. Cooke was well versed in getting himself ready, and if the hungry look James was giving him encouraged him? Well, he figured that was his business alone.

He delicately pulled his fingers out of himself, looking up at Rossi with soft green eyes. “Jamie? ’m ready.”

He nodded, running a hand up Cooke’s leg with something like reverence on his face. 

“Hurry up,” Charlie mumbled. “Would’ve been tempted to finish myself off if I didn’t know you’d make it worth my fucking wait. Prefer your hands to mine.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind next time,” Rossi softly chuckled, his movements slow and careful as he pressed into him. 

It always took a few moments to adjust, just long enough for Cooke to savor it. Rossi’s body flush against his, hands on his waist to hold him still, deep eyes studying his face for discomfort. There never was any.

The moment always seemed to pass too soon, but any complaints he’d have would dissolve on his tongue as soon as Rossi started moving.

His grip on him was tight, unrelenting. Cooke whined a bit, his movements jerky and a bit erratic as he rutted against the man on top of him. 

“James,” he softly whimpered. 

“That’s it, princess, that’s it,” Rossi softly encouraged. “You’re taking it so fucking well, doll, just like that.”

“Jamie,” he whined a bit louder, digging his nails into Rossi’s shoulders. “Please-?”

“Hush, sugar, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you,” he murmured. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

Cooke swallowed hard, managing a little nod. He didn’t trust his voice anymore, didn’t trust it to not sound watery and trembling and _sentimental_. How pitiful would that be, betraying all the feelings he hadn’t quite sorted out yet. 

So he swallowed all of his words, nothing but little pleading whimpers escaping his mouth.

~*~

The third victim came as a surprise, well over a month after the second. Things had gone so quiet, he started to wonder if maybe the two were unrelated and they were looking for patterns where there were none. But sure enough, one more murder, killed the same way as the others.

Rossi found himself walking home a bit quicker that night, a rush of apprehension flooding him as he wondered if Cooke was alright. He hadn’t seen him for a few days prior- incredibly out of character for him, given they’d taken to spending every evening together. Rossi had spent the day telling himself it was just Cooke’s habit of coming and going as he pleased, that he’d turn up when he wanted to. 

It was easier than imagining the other possibility.

His hands trembled a bit as he unlocked his front door, not relaxing much when he noticed the light in the front hall. It wasn’t until Cooke was in front of him, tangible and real and already running his mouth, that Rossi was at ease. 

Cooke, on the other hand, looking baffled but interested by the way Rossi immediately crowded him up against the wall, smothering him in rough kisses. 

“Jamie-“ he whined out, giggling. “Jesus, you’re happy to see me.”

Rossi hissed a little sound, not quite a laugh. “‘Nother body found today. Guy’s name was Kilgour, we think. We have someone in for questioning, I just- Charlie, I was worried,” he mumbled, kissing him hard and relieved and a bit desperate between his words. “Haven’t seen you all week.”

“I was _busy_ ,” he pouted. “I thought of you, though.”

Rossi rested his forehead against Cooke’s, tangling a hand in his hair. “God, I missed you.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” Cooke whined. 

James laughed, a quick, low sound. “Don’t disappear on me without any warnings, then.”

Cooke smirked a bit. “You really missed me?”

“Course I did. You’re the only one I like seeing,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss him again.

“High praise coming from you, sir,” Charlie teased, reaching up to loosen Rossi’s tie. “Maybe I can deal with you being sentimental.”

Rossi softly snorted, resting his hands on Cooke’s hips. “Yeah? Try not to fall in love with me if I’m so charming,” he teased, picking him up. 

Charlie laughed, loosely wrapping his arms around Rossi’s neck. “Think you should be worried about the other way around, detective. You’re the one who’s so keen on my presence.”

“I was worried about you,” Rossi muttered. “Let’s just go upstairs, yeah?”

~*~

His first reaction was to scream. His second was to run, though he wasn’t entirely sure of the direction until he was on a familiar front step and scrambling for the key Rossi tucked away just for him.

There was no one else to go to when he found the body- another boy like him, just not someone whose name he knew. There was no one he trusted to believe him, no one he trusted wouldn’t try to pin it on him. 

So he went to his detective.

He was… far too calm, and far too practical, but he was careful with his words and tried to comfort him, and that was all Charlie cared about. 

He didn’t care as much for the other detectives, finding Malky and Atkins a bit grating. The one Rossi called Jon, the one who sat with him and took his statement, he liked him. A bit soft spoken, maybe, but genuine. Comforting. 

He liked him right away. 

It felt like an eternity before Rossi returned, tense and quiet and a bit distracted. 

“We found him,” he said quietly. “Leslie wasn’t far away, he’s a common client in all four of them.”

“Leslie-? _Ellis_ Leslie? He’s been to most of us, I didn’t think he-“

“Let’s go home,” Rossi interrupted, his voice soft. “Stay with me for a couple days, yeah? I’ve just been worried about you.”

“I really don’t think it’s him, Jamie,” Cooke murmured. “Doesn’t make any sense. He’s- He’s a bit rude but he’s not _murderous_.”

Rossi softened a bit. “Come here, doll.”

Cooke didn’t realize he was trembling until he leaned into Rossi’s side.

He was calm and steady, letting Cooke clung onto him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Home now, yeah?”

Cooke nodded, but most of the walk home was a blur. His usual chatter was gone, replaced by a dull silence. 

Rossi hated it, hated the fact that he hadn’t been with him. 

Cooke blindly clung to him, not letting go of Rossi’s sleeve. 

“I’ll make you a drink, yeah?” James murmured. “You look like you need one.”

“Long as it’s strong,” Cooke said numbly, not leaving Rossi’s side. 

“It’s alright now,” James tried to soothe, knowing as well as anyone that that wouldn’t completely calm his nerves. He poured Cooke and himself each a drink in silence, shooting furtive looks at him. 

When he placed the glass in front of him, Charlie didn’t even move. His eyes kept staring, blankly set on the floor.

“Come here, princess,” Rossi softly soothed, downing his glass. “I’ll try to make you forget, yeah?” 

Cooke trembled as he climbed into Rossi’s lap, sending a rush of anger through the detective. James had a vague thought that Leslie had better pray he never got a hold of him.

“Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“Just- fuck, just take my mind off it. Be nice?”

“I’ll be gentle,” Rossi softly assured, setting his whiskey aside. “Nice and gentle, yeah? You’ve had a rough night.”

Cooke melted into the touch, shaking a bit. “Hurry up, yeah?” he murmured, trying to sound bossy but just sounding a bit hollow. “Haven’t got all night.”

“Love you too, doll,” Rossi said absently, nuzzling along Cooke’s throat. He wasn’t in his dresses as usual- some distant part of Rossi’s mind wondered if this was the first time he’d ever seen Cooke in men’s clothes. Genuinely wearing men’s clothes, anyway, not the way he took to wearing Rossi’s shirts after they fucked, not like James would complain about the sight of Cooke in his clothes. 

“Do you?” Charlie mumbled, his heart pounding as he unbuttoned Rossi’s shirt. “Love me, I mean?” As much as he tried to calm his trembling hands, Rossi ended up noticing them, laying his hands over Cooke’s. “Charlie? Look at me, bambi.”

It took a moment, but he met Rossi’s gaze, not sure what to expect. 

What he got was a surprisingly gentle hand cupping his face. 

“I’m not asking you to go steady with me or anything like that, yeah? But I do.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, a bit of his anxiety put at ease. His fear lingered a bit, but he nodded, tilting his head back to let Rossi kiss his throat.

“Upstairs?”

“No, here’s fine,” Cooke mumbled, whimpering a bit as Rossi slid his hand into his pants. 

He was always so damned slow when he worked Cooke open, and this wasn’t any exception. He teased his fingers around Cooke’s entrance, stroking him a few quick times, and pulled his hand away. “Go get the tin in the bathroom, love,” he murmured. “Top drawer, that’s where the spare’s kept.”

Cooke whined a bit, getting up on trembling legs and shakily making his way to the bathroom. When he got back, Rossi was finishing up undoing his shirt, leaving it and his tie on the table. 

“Hey lover boy,” James gently teased. “Come here. »

Cooke shivered, whimpering as he settled in Rossi’s lap again. He was content with the lack of rough touches for once, not bothering to plead for more. This- Rossi slowly working him open, softly crooning about how good he was- this was enough. 

Once he was prepped and keening softly for it, Rossi fucked him. Slowly, gently, trying to take Cooke’s mind off the evening’s bad memories. 

Charlie’s eyelids fluttered shut, his face hidden in the crook of Rossi’s neck as he fucked up into him to meet Cooke’s needy little movements. 

Little shudders wracked through his body, making him whimper and plead and whine.

Rossi ignored most of it, murmuring soft reassurance into his ear.

“That’s it, doll, right there,” James, _his_ Jamie, murmured. “I remember how you like it, slow down a bit, princess.”

Cooke whimpered under his breath, mewling out James’s name in huffed out little sounds. 

Rossi always took him apart so carefully, so thoroughly. It never took long- especially not this time, the evening’s pent up stress getting to him. 

But it was briefly off his mind when he pleaded Rossi’s name and spilled all over both of their stomachs.

A very sad, very hopeful part of Cooke’s brain found himself praying that this- whatever this was between them- meant he’d be safe. He doubted Leslie was the killer, but even so, there was always someone else out there with the potential to do him harm. For all he knew, he’d be the next body to turn up, and the thought made an unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

Please, for the love of everything, let Rossi be able to keep him safe.

He trusted him to do that.


End file.
